Writers?

[FallingToFly]

I believe her "point" was more general, but your statement is well taken. All I have to offer in response is that you are simply not reading the right stories. I know there's a flood, and the task of wading through it all is daunting (hence the original idea of the review thread, before it became something much more/less).

Most want porn, and it feels like the more you vary from that, the more you get punished (with low readership or votes). Add meat or play with odd plot devices and techniques? Guaranteed low readership. It's simply unfair.


Now my question: Has any writer felt "ruined" by writing erotica? For example, I used to write much more non-erotic stuff, yet when I try to go back to that now, it's much more difficult to become involved. Erotica is far more vibrant, alive and fascinating to write. Yet, here I sit (procrastinating) trying to finish the final scene of a piece I almost-finished about two years ago. I should have the motivation: it's a compelling short, plenty of plot, a waiting home/publishing idea, plenty of smooth phrasing, etc. In fact, the entire completed section is very smooth, so it's not a normal hang-up/block. It's just not as compelling, so the tendency is to put it off again in favor of one of my more exciting (read:sexual) plots.

Is there a special high we get from writing satisfying erotica that cannot be duplicated in more mainstream prose? Or is this problem likely to be more unique to me? Honestly, I'm curious to know if others have encountered this and how they have dealt with it.


Kev



Extra, random thought: I've studied erotic scenes that enhance otherwise non-erotic plots, making them more real, more meaningful (and in some cases, more painful/sorrowful to read). Shouldn't "good" erotica simply be a plot enhancement device? Romance often uses it to good effect, why shouldn't the other genres? Are the mainstream markets really so inhibited, or is my perception really that colored by this last year of complete immersion (both from writing and editing standpoints)?

You know how I feel on this subject, Kev. Just because there's no sex, doesn't make it non-erotic. Since I can only use my own work as an example: A Far Cry From Heaven doesn't have ANY sex, not even a kiss, and yet the feedback consistently rates it as "hot, erotic, evocative." Butterfly Wings is probably my favorite- Non-Erotic, but the undertone of the passion and devotion makes what could be a very simple, very flat scene into more.

I allude to sex more often than I write it. I write erotica in shades of emotion, and that's what drives me. I have yet to find a way to make sex speak to me as strongly and beautifully as emotion can. I've had a lot of complaint about the lack of sex in my stories, and I still can't change my mind. Sex is an action, anyone can do it, and it means nothing. Emotion is something that no amount of skin and sweat can buy- it has to come from inside, or it's all just bumping and grinding.

 

[Kev H]

Ah, but dear, no one is talking or implying (I hope) about replacing emotions with "bumping and grinding." Yet you seem to imply that they are not compatible (which I can comfortably call you a liar on that account, heh, how much less scary would Scream been without the physical enhancement--how could you have involved your reader near as much without using that as a technique?). Sensuality and sexuality should be valuable tools for an erotic writer--they can be overused just like any other tool, but when applied correctly, they do nothing but help with a writer's goals. True?

 

[Stella_Omega]

Take care in soliciting other writers' opinions about your own writings.

On the whole I prefer to talk to other writers, because I am interested in improving my work. Although adulation tastes great, it's less filling.
Although some writers will dump one-bombs on their rivals' work- so do some readers. It's just the way it goes *shrug*

My point, following Charley's lead, is that there is not a lot of good erotic writing. I don't mean porn or stroke, which I respect and quite like. I don't think Romance, celebs etc., however well written, even tries to be erotic.

Surely, erotica is in the mind, not on the page, and so few of us come close to capturing that elusive butterfly.

Allusive work that just hints at sexual content- like Anais Nin? I know I can't write that- reading it bores the fuck out of me! The problem might be that each of us defines "erotic" differently. My erotic is graphic.

Say we created a scale where
1=Elusive Butterfly Of Love
and
10=CUM ON HER TITS

where would you place your range as far as your writing goes? (none of us would be stuck on one number, I don't think)

As far as your reading preferences go?


My writing ranges from 4 to 8, I would guess, and my reading preferences are pretty much the same...


Oh, and Kev I totally agree your post right above mine-- I use the physical to express the emotional, as best I can- rarely the other way around... That's why I write erotica in the first place!

 

[cloudy]

Now my question: Has any writer felt "ruined" by writing erotica? For example, I used to write much more non-erotic stuff, yet when I try to go back to that now, it's much more difficult to become involved. Erotica is far more vibrant, alive and fascinating to write. Yet, here I sit (procrastinating) trying to finish the final scene of a piece I almost-finished about two years ago. I should have the motivation: it's a compelling short, plenty of plot, a waiting home/publishing idea, plenty of smooth phrasing, etc. In fact, the entire completed section is very smooth, so it's not a normal hang-up/block. It's just not as compelling, so the tendency is to put it off again in favor of one of my more exciting (read:sexual) plots.

Exactly the opposite for me.

Most of my projects over the last year or so have stalled right at the beginning of a sex scene. I just can't be bothered to write it - it's boring as all hell to write compared to the rest of the story. If I could just write, "they fucked," or something along those lines, it would be much easier.

There's only so many different ways you can write sex, after all, and it's boring as shit to write for me.

*shrug*

 

[rgraham666]

My longer works, where I concentrate more on character, I'd be a 3 to 5.

My short pieces of smut, 6 to 8.

My longer pieces of smut, 4 to 8.

What can I say? My writing is like me, all over the map but tending towards the centre.

 

[Stella_Omega]

Exactly the opposite for me.

Most of my projects over the last year or so have stalled right at the beginning of a sex scene. I just can't be bothered to write it - it's boring as all hell to write compared to the rest of the story. If I could just write, "they fucked," or something along those lines, it would be much easier.

There's only so many different ways you can write sex, after all, and it's boring as shit to write for me.

*shrug*

HA! that's exactly my problem as well.

When I first started, I practically wrote stroke-by-stroke (Lucky for my readers I've severely edited those stories) Now I have to go back and add details so it won't be allusive- i have my porn standards to uphold, after all....

What I find amazing is that sex scenes that I forced onto the page word by dragging, unwilling word- still read well after all the trauma.

 

[Fallenfromgrace]

Here's an opening question: would you rather have well-written smut (graphic, short, straight to the sex story) with minimal focus on who these people are and why they're doing what they're doing, or well-written erotica, where the emotional context takes the place of graphic sex and the sexual focus is softer?

Im a new writter here, and the story i currently have submitted was more of a smut story, had some undertones of emotion-it wasnt aggressive or passive sex, it was involved and emotional.

I dont like to write just a sex scene. The piece im currently working on is more 'well written erotica' i guess if u want to call it that, though i'd probably call it romantica. I prefer writting the story of the characters lives, and not their sex. I write about what they wear, what they eat, their families. Sex happens because in the case of my current piece, the characters are a couple, and it was impotant to show their emotional and everyday lives, and have that intimacy as well.

I don't like to write stroke stories as much as i like to write romantica, i like to really get to know my characters, and be able to answer the most obscure questions about them if needs be. I like to read stroke stories, but again, not aggressive ones.

like someone said above there are only a numbe of ways to write 'and she slowly pushed her fingers through her wet entrance whilst biting down on the erect nipple' and it can get boring. I don't like 'aggressive' language as a fascilitator for a sex scene 'he thrust himself inside her and grunted as she clenched forecefully around him' it really turns me off...

neways, that was my 2 cents.

 

[Munachi]

for reading, it varies. could be a 1 to 9 according to my mood. for writing, actually i hate writing sex scenes. they are fun to make up in my mind, but putting them to words? i always feel they are too cheesy, never bring across what i meant. if i could, i'd just always end it just before, then put a "..." there, and then continue the story at a few hours later. but i guess that would defeat the purpose of this site somewhat. so i guess for my writing it is between 1 and 5, maybe...

 

[FallingToFly]

for reading, it varies. could be a 1 to 9 according to my mood. for writing, actually i hate writing sex scenes. they are fun to make up in my mind, but putting them to words? i always feel they are too cheesy, never bring across what i meant. if i could, i'd just always end it just before, then put a "..." there, and then continue the story at a few hours later. but i guess that would defeat the purpose of this site somewhat. so i guess for my writing it is between 1 and 5, maybe...

That's how I feel, lol.

I do write sex, Kev, you know that... hell, even Bug Eyes had sex, muted as it was. It's just that, as several people have mentioned, the sex pales beside the rest of the piece for me. Maybe it's because of my own attitude towards sex- it's a physical act, like washing dishes or doing cartwheels, that creates a physical response. Human bodies only more so many ways, fiot together so many ways- but human hearts and minds are infinite and ever-unfolding, like some exotic rose.

I like sex, the same as I like going riding or taking a long walk in a misty night. It isn't a -need- for me, it's nice, but not a necessity. On the other hand- I've lived without feeling. I've lived in the dark, where nothing made a damn bit of difference, where nothing mattered. I would never willingly go back there. I would rather trade a single night of true feeling for a thousand earth-shattering fucks.

 

[FallingToFly]

A quick comparation...

Of what I equate with erotica and what I equate to stroke.

Both are male/male. Both are mine, so you can PM me any flames.

Erotica...

And it feels so real, doesn't it? The tiny catches in breath, the gasps of pleasure or pain drawn from that construct's throat, the trembling vibrato of the soprano scream forced from him when I set my teeth into the solid meat of his shoulder. Everything drawn from a thousand memories, drawn out of shadow and sorrow and molded into what I want... need... him to be.

The deluge outside the windows is nothing compared to the cleansing this simple selfishness gives me. My hands at his waist, slipping and sliding over the warm-cool skin to the taut fullness of his buttocks. He had always been so dainty, almost feminine, making me feeling hulking and ungainly beside him.

I take a moment to breathe in the fragrance of his skin, peaches and salt, copper and despair. If only this flesh could bleed beneath my fingers, my teeth, fill my mouth with the sweet corruption his veins run thick with, a million miles away. But the flesh beneath me feels so real, slick and silky beneath my fingertips, hot and tight as heaven's embrace around my aching cock, the ebb and flow of passion that rocks back and forth with each thrust feels as real as memory, and as distant as dreams. If only the caster of this shadow were here, with those darkling eyes and that insouciant mouth so skilled a debate or wrapping around the length of my body ...

It ends too soon, the shuddering ecstasy of orgasm, the flood of emptiness that follows. As fleeting and shallow as a hand job in the dark, or the necessity of masturbating in the shower to relieve the tension of celibacy. The spell fades, leaving me alone in stained sheets, still aching, in a distant way, with the familiar pain of his loss. Even at the height of passion, I had not kissed that shade, that replacement for love. A whore's trick, to save that intimacy for true lovers, but I've been the whore, and I know their tricks as well as any.

...and stroke.

"Too bad I don't give a fuck." Linde's hands were hard as iron, closing on Ville's shoulders and slamming him back against the wall of the shower, and he moved to close the distance between them before Ville could react, fisting his hands in the dark hair painfully, his mouth crashing onto Ville's with fierce, possesive furor. Ville struggled against the smooth, hard wall of his chest, slick now with the water and soap from his own skin, opening his mouth to curse, rage, weep, anything but submit, and Linde's wicked tongue silenced him, licking and stroking his mouth. His traitous body responded, his hands relaxing, and then struggling to find more skin to clutch and hold, his mouth opening and returning the languid caresses, his cock hardening until it rested against the other man's inner thigh, nestled against the edge of Linde's own arousal.

Linde's laughter was almost mocking, a whisper of disdainful amusement. His hands were brutal as he pushed Ville away, turned him away from him. "You are such a whore, Ville," the blond whispered in his ear as he pressed Ville against the wall. Something slick and cool trickled down Ville's spine, massaged in with rough gentleness, sliding down his back and hips, and the tender, throbbing crevice between his buttocks. Linde's hand skated over his lower belly, sliding down the length of his body, rolling the dusky head in his palm for a moment before pulling away.

"I can still taste that little girl on you, Ville." There was a definite threat in Linde's words. "No amount of scrubbing is going to change the fact that you're dirty, inside and out."

Ville stiffened at the insistent pressure against his entrance, starting to move away until Linde pinned him hard against the tiles, pressing the assault against the tender flesh until he found that delicate bundle of nerves that made Ville's knees waver and his breath come in short, guttural curses and protests.

"Do you really want me to stop?" Linde's hands moved away, and Ville bit back the betraying sob of loss in his throat. "You have to answer me, Ville. Do you want me to stop?" His fingers were tracing along the tattoo across Ville's stomach again, following the curves and lines as though he could see them. The first flutters of panic clawed at Ville's chest, making his breath wheeze in his throat.

"God.. Linde... please," it was the closest he could force himself to beg, but he thought he'd die if Linde made good on his threat to stop. It wouldn't have been the first time the other man had driven him to his knees with pleasure, and then turned and walked away if the response wasn't satisfactory enough.

Linde's mouth skimmed his shoulder, rested lightly on his throat, and then the pressure was back, harder and hotter this time, as Linde eased the soapy head of his cock into Ville. As vicious as his words could be, he always turned oddly gentle in moments like this, never trying to cause pain, just complete and utter humiliation. Once Ville begged, all was right in their fucked up little world again.

Ville rocked his hips back against Linde, tiny, moaning gasps punctuating every movement. They were hungry, needy noises that he hated, and couldn't help. Linde's fingers dug into his hipbones, leaving red marks that they both knew would fade by morning on the surface, and be tender for days with the memory. The first deep rumble broke from Linde, somewhere between praise and profanity, and encouraged Ville, pushed both of them into more, more power, more depth, more speed, until Linde's head was resting on Ville's shoulder, his hand was wrapped around Ville's shaft, stroking and squeezing, and they were skating the thin red line between madness and ecstacy.

 

[Stella_Omega]

Good examples of your gorgeous writng, FTF. Your "stroke" though, is about as soft as I ever get!
This is erotica, to me;

"Fuck me, Mistress-" he used his legs to lever himself against her, slid them down and clasped his ankles across her back, his cock incredibly hard against her stomach. -Darkness, webbed with light- She felt her hips begin to move, in unthinking response to his need.

Tracy gasped, cried out at each thrust, grasped frantically at the upholstery, at her arms. "Is this it?" he gasped, "Oh, baby, this is where the power is..."

He felt as if he understood for the first time. As if his surrender to her conquered her. Now he knew why she held him so tight, when she let him into her cunt. And he was going to come this way, on his back like a girl, heels in the air in front of strangers. Feeling the energy in flux between them, and she shifted position, driving towards the base of his spine. If anything, it felt even better. He gave voice in abandon to the soaring sensation. Seeing darkness, webbed with light, and drops of falling music.

Stella slid her hand between their bodies, to find his cock. He cried out, his high, questioning wail, jetting into her hand with an astonishing force. And again, as she pumped into him, and yet another spasm. His final cry, the answer found. Stella stopped moving, rested her forehead on his chest, panting.

"Oh, Stella..." he whispered. "Oh, Mistress."

"How are you feeling, boy?" She slowly pulled out, such a strange feeling.

"We'll have to do this more often." he murmured. "I had no idea..."

And this is more hardcore;

A pair of women came over, to beg a favor of the Baroness. The Baroness wanted in on this one; She personally brought Griffin over to the third woman, comfortable in a sling. Griff was eager to show her cocksmanship but it was not to be; her hands were twisted behind her and bound wrist to elbow. The pair walked Griffin forward, rolled a condom over her dick and put her into position; Allyson reached around and used Griffin's cock to tease the supine woman's clit and labia. It drove Griff crazy, not to be in control of that very thing. The woman announced she was ready; the two women at her sides slid her into their friend and pushed and pulled her to move her dick in and out. She was allowed very little movement of her own. Her Mistress held her chain, while the woman in the sling panted her directions, and her two attendants carried them out– using Griffin as a fucking machine.

'Sublime Humiliation' That came pretty close to the point, although she would bite her tongue before using a phrase as old and tired as that one. Her rectum convulsed on the buttplug with each guided thrust. The woman in the sling thrashed and writhed, her pussy jerking as she neared orgasm. If she could only put her mouth to the hot little clit, it would be over in a second. But the women weren't in that kind of hurry. The fucking machine was going to be running for a while longer. One of the two attendants left Griffin and went around to tend to the woman's neck and breasts. Griff, having demonstrated that she understood the rhythm that was needed, was allowed to proceed on her own. Until she was pulled away, suddenly, and the women brought their friend to climax. Griff heard her deep, satisfied moans as she was being tethered, once again, to the pillar. She scratched at the wood behind her, with her bound arms, in frustration.

 

[Skip1934a]

"I would rather trade a single night of true feeling for a thousand earth-shattering fucks."

In life, so would I. But in erotica, I like reading either. Stroke or emotion.

Your two examples are equally stimulating to me. I wish I could write as well.

I've read so many poorly writen stroke stories that I tend to write that way.

I usually don't like gay stories, but yours I can enjoy. Unlike you, I can enjoy transgender stories, maybe because I can see my feminine side, at least in emotional spheres, peeking through. Growing more emotional in my old age.

 

[FallingToFly]

Unlike you, I can enjoy transgender stories, maybe because I can see my feminine side, at least in emotional spheres, peeking through. Growing more emotional in my old age.

I have nothing against them... they just don't do anythign for me. I've known too many of them in rl I guess. Great guys.. gals.. GAH! Okay, great PEOPLE, but I would never have seen any of them as someone I would want to go to bed with, even in passing fancy.

 

[Stella_Omega]

"I would rather trade a single night of true feeling for a thousand earth-shattering fucks."

In life, so would I. But in erotica, I like reading either. Stroke or emotion.

Your two examples are equally stimulating to me. I wish I could write as well.

I've read so many poorly writen stroke stories that I tend to write that way.

I usually don't like gay stories, but yours I can enjoy. Unlike you, I can enjoy transgender stories, maybe because I can see my feminine side, at least in emotional spheres, peeking through. Growing more emotional in my old age.

I'm assuming you're talking about FTF's work

Myself, I figure an earth-shattering fuck is true feeling- at least, in erotica

 

[rgraham666]

I'd settle for a fuck that just makes the earth move.

 

[Skip1934a]

I'm assuming you're talking about FTF's work

Myself, I figure an earth-shattering fuck is true feeling- at least, in erotica

Yes, FTF's . except for the poorly written stokes I referred to. I've yet to find anything written by FTF as 'poorly written'.

I've read some of yours, too, and they are good.

 

[FallingToFly]

Yes, FTF's . except for the poorly written stokes I referred to. I've yet to find anything written by FTF as 'poorly written'.

I've read some of yours, too, and they are good.

*drink spew* Bah! You haven't read enough then, sweetheart... I can name half my list if you want examples, lol!

Munachi's stuff is lovely isn't it?

 

[Skip1934a]

*drink spew* Bah! You haven't read enough then, sweetheart... I can name half my list if you want examples, lol!

Munachi's stuff is lovely isn't it?

If I haven't read them, they're not on Lit., girl. You're my mentor, remember?

 

[FallingToFly]

If I haven't read them, they're not on Lit., girl. You're my mentor, remember?

 

[Fallenfromgrace]

I havent read any of your stuff yet FTF, (aside from your quotes) but if you write like that throughout, i'm sure i'll love your work. I've read some MM work before, and it was good, but judging from your quote i think you probably surpass the stuff ive been subjected to in the past.

My main interest is FF, i have tried writting MF, but i found it difficult. I've never tried writting MM, but i have had some ideas about it, and i don't think i'd find it as awkward to write as MF- maybe because its weird for me to write about how a woman experiences heterosex, but i find myself less 'lost' thinking about writting MM.

I look forward to getting round to reading your stuff, especially your non stroke stuff, but the 2nd extract was wickedly hot, for the character pairing that seems so evil and controlling on a level.


I myself, at this precise moment would prefer an earth shattering fuck than the emotions- maybe coz i had a screwed up last relationship lol. But in the longterm, i want the kind of loving and caring relationship i tend to write about.

 

[Skip1934a]

Rob, I hear you. But as I age, I find emotion more in the forefront. I've fathered four, and enjoyed every minute of it. Well except the college expenses.

Fallen, I can see where you're coming from, too. You count yourself as a woman who loves women, so your tastes would certainly reflect that.

 

[Fallenfromgrace]

Rob, I hear you. But as I age, I find emotion more in the forefront. I've fathered four, and enjoyed every minute of it. Well except the college expenses.

Fallen, I can see where you're coming from, too. You count yourself as a woman who loves women, so your tastes would certainly reflect that.

indeed m'dear, thanking you for the rose speaking of 'screwed up last relationship' my ex just phoned me...and she's talking like nothing's happened, and i really dont want to talk to her...she's currently talking about someone she may have met...:S ewww...i dont want to know.

 

[Skip1934a]

indeed m'dear, thanking you for the rose speaking of 'screwed up last relationship' my ex just phoned me...and she's talking like nothing's happened, and i really dont want to talk to her...she's currently talking about someone she may have met...:S ewww...i dont want to know.

Keep it friendly, honey. Life's too short for anything less.

 

[Fallenfromgrace]

Keep it friendly, honey. Life's too short for anything less.

why does she get to potentially have sex and i dont?

i kept it friendly, we didnt end on great terms and havent spoken for the month since. off to watch a film now, take care Skip *rose for you* *stops threadjacking*

Romantica rules

 

[hmmnmm]

Well, only if you have a tendency to be touchy about criticism. Personally, I love well-articulated criticism; it gives me the perfect editing tool.

The Killer that self-consciousness is, has been a shackle I've struggled with for many years, and I've found that during brief periods when it was at least loosened, when I didn't worry about the opinions, criticisms - or praises - of others, I experienced a greater sense of liberty to just get down to work for the pure pleasure of it.

Shortly after I signed on here and experienced my first dose of negative feedback, I was running to the AH, panic-stricken, "what am I doing wrong? Help me!"

Those who responded were very nice and generous with their advice.
"It's too much this... try this... you're doing too much of this and not enough of that... this is good, that's rather weak..."

So I'm noting everything, yeah, they're right. Yeah, I see what they're saying. Go back to the shed.

Then lo and behold someone comes along and says they like what they read, just the way it is.

Well, for those who don't battle self-doubt all this would have little effect on them, but I was running in circles, hesitating, worrying.

But I brought the storm upon myself for asking the questions in the first place.

Instead I could have just studied their work.

I still may not have become a worthy writer but the nights would be warmer.

Maybe.

Or, if I would do it all over, I'd approach them via PM. And assume nothing.